


2nd Avenue Bus

by neevebrody



Category: Thoughtcrimes/Dawson's Creek Crossover
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-12
Updated: 2010-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 05:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neevebrody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>…Brendan cut his eyes at Vince's reflection in the bureau-length mirror, his face scrunched as he continued to do up his tie. "What's wrong with these pants? You bought them for me, remember?..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	2nd Avenue Bus

Vincent shuffled, sleepy-eyed, into the bedroom, coffee in each hand. He placed Brendan's mug on the bureau beside him. "You're not wearing _those_ pants, are you?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at his handsome boyfriend.

Instead of turning, Brendan cut his eyes at Vince's reflection in the bureau-length mirror, his face scrunched as he continued to do up his tie. "What's wrong with these pants? You bought them for me, remember? Thought you liked them."

Vince sipped his coffee and hummed. He had bought the khakis for Brendan, mostly because of the way they showed off his ass. Of course, it didn't hurt that the pleats in front featured Brendan's package quite nicely either. He shrugged. "But you've never worn them to work. Aren't you—"

Brendan went back to his tie. "Harper's on my ass about some overdue reports, so it's a casual day for me." He smoothed the tie in place and took a step back. "I'll be in the office all day." He didn't sound too happy about that.

He slid past Brendan and set his cup on the nightstand, opened the drawer and slipped something into his pocket. Then Vince sidled up behind Brendan in time to watch the hair ritual – where, basically, Brendan just ran his fingers through from several different angles. It hardly ever looked the same way twice, and this particular morning, the ritual just added weight to his already half-hard dick. "I love the way you do that." He leaned in at Brendan's ear, resting his chin on the crisp blue Oxford-covered shoulder, then reached around to finger the tie and placed his other hand on Brendan's hip.

"Vincent?" Brendan's glare was a most welcomed challenge.

His hand slid from the tie to the button of the khakis. Innocent eyes locked with Brendan's in the mirror; smiling as he deftly popped the button open and began lowering the zipper.

"No, Vince, I don't have time." Somehow, though, Brendan's voice didn't have enough bite. "I don't need to compound how much I'm screwed with Harper by being late." The complaint was weakened by the way Brendan leaned back into him just a little, and that's when he smelled blood.

Vince glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Plenty of time.

The battle was less than valiantly fought and he easily had the khakis and boxer briefs (damn him) around Brendan's ankles in seconds. Then, on to his spoils: Brendan bent over the bureau top, that nice creamy ass sticking out, right there in his hands. And time limit or no… there was one thing he'd never pass up.

He bent down, spread Brendan's cheeks with his thumbs and licked a long, warm stripe from behind Brendan's sac all the way up and over the puckered rosy-brown skin, then on to the small of Brendan's back.

A faded protest followed the rush of air from Brendan's lungs. "Can't… Vince… no time… just…"

He gave one soft cheek a squeeze. "Where's your confidence in me, baby?" He breathed the words so close against Brendan's ass, he could feel and see his lover clench. Another long stripe, and another, and another had Brendan open and relaxed.

"Fuck."

"Hmmm." He slipped the travel-sized lube from his pocket and snapped open the cap. "You read my mind."

After teasing Brendan with his fingers, Vince stood, pulled down his sweats and slicked the hand-warmed lube over his hard cock. Anticipation buzzed through him as he caught the time reflected in the mirror. Smiling to himself, he slipped slowly into Brendan's soft heat. Convinced there was nothing better on the face of the earth, he rocked into Brendan with an even, steady pace. He splayed his fingers apart to run his hands up under the white undershirt. Warmth spread up his arms as damp skin shuddered beneath them.

"Jesus, Bren…. you feel so fucking good… all of you." He finished by snapping his hips harder and fucking to a different rhythm. One more urgent, more needy and one small shift in his angle brought a sharp bark of breath from Brendan. "Oh, liked that, did you? Want more?" Several items fell off the bureau, including Brendan's coffee, as Vince didn't wait for an answer. "Tell me, Brendan… you want more don't you?"

Brendan pushed back then. Hard. Meeting Vince's thrusts and that's what Vince lived for, to see Brendan so undone. "Christ, I love that… love the way you want it, Bren." He leaned over and once again scorched the words through Brendan's shirt. "Tell me…"

The sound of Brendan trying to breath with his pace steeled Vince even more. "God… yes, Vince… but… touch me… dammit, aren't you…"

He reached to twine his fingers in Brendan's hair, then pulled his head back, straightening them a bit so Brendan would be sure to see him in the mirror. "Nope, I want you to do it. See," he nodded in the mirror, making Brendan look down at himself. "I want to watch you… and you watch me," he ground out, tugging Brendan again by the hair, gently, until their eyes met.

"Vince…"

He pushed even harder inside Brendan rendering the rest of his words useless. "God, so close, Bren… Not touching you, you don't want to bring yourself off… that's up to you." He nudged Brendan's legs a bit further apart and shifted again. This time Brendan's eyes shot wide with his sharp intake of breath.

"Damn you… Vince… fuck!"

He let go of Brendan, but anchored his hand in the center of Brendan's back. It had already started, the tingle deep in his balls, the bottoms of his feet, all the way to prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. So damn close. "C'mon, you know how much I wanna see you? Fuck, Brendan… wanna see you come first…" his voice down to a raspy whisper, "please baby… please…"

Brendan thought he'd give in, that he couldn't resist, Vince was sure of that, probably had something to do with his track record. But not this time. Smearing his thumb around the slick outside of Brendan's opening, he had one last means of persuasion in mind. Making sure his thumb was slick; he slipped it carefully inside and rubbed it back and forth over his cock, not really prepared for the shivers it sent through his own body. Brendan bucked beneath him, but he kept on, moving it in and out while he fucked. The last time they'd done it, Brendan had shot so hard it had taken them a week to find all the errant stains.

Amid the gasps and Brendan's adorable feigned curses, he smiled at the reflection of Brendan jacking himself. Particularly taken with the way the head of Brendan's cock, darkened with Brendan's own need, pushed up and back through his loose fist. God, he could almost taste the sweetness, and no matter how much he wanted to wait, he couldn't.

It hit him like a 2nd Avenue bus. He barely had time to slide his thumb out and cage Brendan's hips with both hands. "Jesus fuck, Brendan." He cried out as Brendan backed into him even harder, taking him all the way to the hilt. Trying to keep his eyes on the mirror, on Brendan's cock, was tough, the edges of the room were starting to blur and darken. Finally, the force of his orgasm bent him forward, balancing him on the balls of his feet as he jerked helplessly inside Brendan.

Somehow, the Oxford cloth was cool and soothing as he pressed his face to it, listening to Brendan's hitched breaths and the sound of skin against skin. Then Brendan shuddered beneath him, not just a shiver, but strong enough to shake them both and rattle the bureau against the wall. His imagination would have to serve, he couldn't move, but had such a lovely image in his head of Brendan coming.

He curled both arms around and held Brendan, held him until he started to splutter about the time. He let go reluctantly, stepped out of his sweats and fell back onto the bed. Bracing himself on his elbows, he contemplated his cold coffee, the mess on the floor and how goddamn much he loved fucking Brendan.

"Dammit, Vince."

He looked up, grinning stupidly at Brendan, who, after pulling his khakis up, had discovered several stains on the pants front.

"Now I'll have to change, and I will be late. Not to mention the pants are probably ruined." His face seemed hard as he stared down at Vince, waiting perhaps for an apology or a magic wand or some time-turning device that would take them back thirty minutes.

Checking his grin, all he did was stand, wrap his arms around Brendan's neck and kiss him, licked his way inside that hot mouth and curled a leg around behind Brendan's thigh. Hell, the pants were ruined anyway, right?

He kissed Brendan until Brendan kissed back, until Brendan melted a little into his arms and let a hand stray down to cup Vincent's naked ass. "Sorry," he mumbled against Brendan's lips. "I'll take 'em to the cleaners today… or I'll buy you another pair. I'm sorry, Bren."

Brendan pushed back and eyed him. "I've gotta change now, but, Vince… the next time you don't want me to wear something flattering when you can't be around… just say so, okay?"

He arched a brow and nodded contritely. While he watched Brendan take off the soiled pants, he let his full smile escape. Say so… now just where the hell was the fun in that?


End file.
